053 x 350 // TEXT/ACTION // MY GOOD SIDE

[dignity_misery]

this has been a tedious month. your dreams and desires are meaningless unless acted upon; accomplished. hope is a wasted emotion.

this entire city is a ridiculous pit of idleness, though it is better than some destinations. at least its maintained a monetary system to encourage some form of competition. communism is a boring ideology. there needs to be a struggle between squalor and opulence. preferably bloodsport; bets taken.

though lacking such indulgences, there is always sex.

there's some completion in that, and i am never bored.


[[ooc; Zinc will be at int4glio, and you can talk to either of them, just let me know.]]

Z I N C

[It's always obvious when Carla has come from a different time in her life. The sleeplessness leaves her eyes, the sorrow leaves her cheeks, the bitterness leaves her mouth. Her brown eyes hold a different intensity, something boiling furiously under the surface, an emanation of concentration and energy. But this energy is contained, sleek and streamlined unlike her usual feral explosions of unfamiliar emotion. At 23 years old, she is unemotional. Cold and hungry, but more refined than the cruel little girl that has visited before. But no less lascivious.

She's out and about the City today, doing a little graffiti . For those who have seen Carla's artwork, this is nothing like it. In fact, it's nothing original at all, only copies of other people's work. There is a marked theme of dead things: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. It's just the culture she's come from, and the life she'll lead.]

C A R L A

[Personally, Carla doesn't much care for the paintings. They've all come out of Barbet's sketches, and the sorrow that her ideal self is incapable of wearing is heavy on her. She takes Peanut down to the beach. He's still been hiccuping fireballs, so it's safer to stay close to the water.]

E I T H E R/O R - ANYWHERE

[They will both be around the City, feel free to catch them anywhere.]

Comments

Zinc!

[mortemscintilla]

[ He's returning from work, striding in the coolish air with the sleeves of his sweater halfway rolled up, ears plugged with headphones and a fizzy energy drink in his hand. Pausing to sip, he catches movement from the corner of his eye. It's just Carla, up to mischief. That in itself is no surprise, but he can gauge subtle differences. This Carla's body language isn't skewed. Nor is there that hum of something in the line of her spine. ]

[ Idly, cat-quiet, Hei approaches her. None of the changes are unexpected, given the City's curse du jour. Least of all the artwork. Everyone oozes with what they know and live -- in word or deed. So the lack of originality in the paintings -- the recurrent theme -- is telling, really. ]

[int4glio]

[ She ignores him. That's just the way this one is, not compelled to challenge everything that draws near her. She is self-contained, uninterested in anything beyond the reaches of her decisions.

Her spray painting is rigid, precise. Truthfully, the lack of innovation makes the effect rather boring. She doesn't care. The purpose was vandalism, making a nuisance of herself, making a mark, than it was to share an experience. She finishes without pausing to admire her work, stepping down off her step stool. She packs away the cans of paint in a bag before she looks at him.

Her expression is obnoxious, snide.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ If he wanted to, he could match that sneer tick for tick. Hei's a chameleon after all, trained to mirror the body-language of those around him, each tailor-made approach based on the snapshot of his marks and the trajectory of their conversations. Instead he raises an eyebrow. He's in no mood for 'Li's nervous flustering or BK201's frigorific hostility. Whoever this version of Carla is, she's just an insouciant little vandal. He rarely wastes energy on those types. ]

[ Sipping from his can, he asks, dryly, ]

Beautifying the City?

[int4glio]

Did it work?

[ Her tone is just as sneering as her expression. ]

[mortemscintilla]

I'm not an art critic.

[ Butter-wouldn't-melt. He has a sense of aesthetics and complimentary colors -- what chameleon wouldn't? -- but that's as far as his interest extends. ]

[int4glio]

Everyone's a critic.

[But what she's really doing right now is studying him. Chameleon to chameleon.]

[mortemscintilla]

Only if they've got nothing better to do.

[ His impassivity isn't deliberate but default, because under the layers and veils of Li and BK201 that's what Hei is, a being stripped down to the barest slivers of emotion and expression. Watching this Carla isn't so much looking at a mirror as it is a time-portal. He was the same way at 17, in Heaven's War -- filled with a cold energy that was also a toxicity, a controlled hatred which burned like a column of blue flame. ]

[ But that was to protect Pai. And Pai is long gone. ]

[int4glio]

So what is it you're doing?

[Her grin is sharp, always hungry for something. More lucid than a junkie, but by God does she have her vices.]

[mortemscintilla]

[ The soda-can lifts to his lips again. He takes a slow sip, eyes fixed on her. ]

Observing the scenery.

[ It's not flirtation, despite its potential to sound like it; just a statement of fact. (Flirtation is something he reserves for work, elicitation sheathed in smiles and sweetness. But that's not necessary here. The only thing that drives him in the City is blanket curiosity.) ]

[flatterie]

That was almost poetic.

[int4glio]

I hate poetry.

[flatterie]

You'll break my heart! What did it ever do to you?

[int4glio]

Bored me.

[flatterie]

Quelle tragédie. I will say, however, that you have quite a talent for it. Show them how it should be done.

[int4glio]

Tu es plein de merde.

[flatterie]

Au contraire, ma belle! Je suis plein de rien que de bonnes intentions.

[int4glio]

La seule bonne intention l'intention de baiser.

[deadmanbusiness]

[Theo is actually glad his better self hasn't come out to play. He's not sure what they'd be like, but he's certain he wouldn't like them. There's a good chance that they'd either be down right evil or... something else. He knows he lives on an edge point between that sort of thing.

That being said, he's retreated to the beach to get away from all the madness. Hopefully. When he sees Carla and Peanut, he gives them a wave, amused that the dog is still hurking fireballs.]

[dignity_misery]

[She recognizes the face, not with any great degree of familiarity, but she has seen him before, she knows that. Her frown is slight, not precisely given to friendliness and certainly not in the mood to be mocked for her dog's continued affliction.

Peanut burps up another little burst of flame before scurrying over to Theo's feet, turning circles waiting to be pet.]

[deadmanbusiness]

[Carefully, so not to get burned, he offers his hand to be sniffed by Peanut first. Then he'll give the petting. He doesn't seem like he's going to make fun of the poor doggie's problems.]

Hey. I guess the dragon thing didn't wear off.

[dignity_misery]

[She stays where she is for a moment, just watching.]

No, it didn't.

[She pushes herself up to her feet to head over, but she doesn't get too much closer before she's stopped, frowning again. She's been lingering in the twilights of death, unnatural in-betweens only becoming more twisted and miserable for a long time.]

[deadmanbusiness]

[He notices the in-betweeness which he couldn't tell over the com before and peers at her more curiously now. Rather like he's seeing some new specimen of insect. Okay, maybe not that bad... but the idea is there.]

Has he learned to control it yet?

[Carefully, Theo radiates non-threateningness. In the "I may be the master of the undead, but I'm not going to try and take control of you in any way" way.]

[dignity_misery]

[It's not that he's not trying, it's that she's overly reactive. She didn't use to be, used to be cold and calm and unflappable. But that was before she died and before the ravening flesh-eater was introduced into her mind. It was a sick irony that the Reanimates felt more emotions than she ever had as a a human, uninfected. Reanimates are especially capable at rage. Carla doesn't mean to, but she spooks at the way he looks at her, shoulders going up with a hiss.

It's been a while since the animal overtook her so strongly, it startles her, and that doesn't help her calm down.

She's never learned to control it, no matter how hard she's tried nor how harshly she's denigrated herself.]

[deadmanbusiness]

[Theo raises his hands up quickly.]

Hey... hey... easy... I'm not going to hurt you.

[He realizes that he sounds like he's talking to an animal but that's how she's acting.]

[dignity_misery]

[She makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat, it's really more frustration with herself than anything else. Peanut comes to her, pushing into her leg protectively. She grits her teeth and crouches down to comfort him before he belches up a fireball. Her hands move in frenetic little jerks, that probably aren't as comforting as she'd have liked.

Eventually she croaks up in a tense voice,]

Back up.